The Ballad of General Shepherd
by ReadyFireAimEmission
Summary: Five years ago, history and 30,000 men were lost in the blink of an eye. Now one man wants to change the future forever, no matter what it takes. This is the Ballad of General David Shepherd.
1. Cover Art

**The Ballad of General Shepherd: Author's note.**

Disc one: Track 0

Overture: N/A

Due to my writers block and my promise to work on my other projects, I've decided to start this story as a way to combat that. And since I wanted to try something new, I decided to do this.

A Ballad is normally a poem, set to song and dance, but I'm no poet, or composer.

Or dancer.

So I've decided to create this, kind of a Ballad/Story about General Shepherd that takes place during Modern Warfare 2, with its own unique twist.

The story is set up in three Acts, or 'Discs'. And each chapter is set to an overture or piece of music corresponding to the chapter.

Read the chapters while listening to the overtures, adding a music element to the story. You can most likely find them on youtube or somewhere on the internet.

And as always, rate and review. I hope you enjoy.

_Disclaimer: All music belongs to their respective owners/composers. I do not own any of the music/characters from Modern Warfare. All rights reserved by their respective owners and copyright dates_


	2. Track 1: Constants

**The Ballad of General Shepherd: Disc One**

Act I, Scene I

Overture:_ "Moonlight Sonata, 1st movement"_ By Ludwig Van Beethoven.

* * *

_"In distant future, a story set in stone."_

_"A patriot with a dream, departs from his home."_

_"His mission: Just. His cause: true."  
_

_"Never again will he see his country in Red, White and Blue."

* * *

_The rain sprinted down the clear windshield of the antique car, curving and dashing in random paths as more rain continued to fall. It was a never ending cycle, with a constant and repeating rhythm. Like a heartbeat or the constant panting of a dog. It always continued, and never stopped.

A constant pattern. A constant rhyme. Constants and Constants. Never changing, always repeating.

That was what the world had come to. Patterns upon patterns. It was so predictable it was elementary. Nothing changed, no matter what anyone did.

The world always turned, and the sun always rose and set. The tides changed, and the moon appeared and vanished. The clock always turned right, and spun exactly 24 times everyday.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Boundaries Shift.

New players step in.

But power always finds a place to rest his head.

That was the world. A constant pattern. You kill one and three more take his place, and your back to square one.

You make sacrifices, and what do you gain in the end?

30,000 men, lost in a blink of an eye.

A middle east dictator, killed in Russia. The son of a Russian rebel leader, killed in a sting operation. A nuclear launch diverted, and the man behind it killed in the operation.

The world safe, secure and sound, once again.

But power always finds a place to rest its head. Someone always takes up the cause, and sends the world back into turmoil.

Nothing changes, Nothing improves. And now 30,000 men are dead, all in vain.

Nothing will change, nothing can change.

Unless someone changes the rules...

The car door swung open and a man wearing a long brown coat and black beret stepped out onto the dark Moscow street, a briefcase in one hand, his other in his coat pocket, holding a concealed pistol hiding out of sight.

The man closed the door and began to walk down a dark alley, his eyes set on a metal door at the other end. If things were to change, the rules had to be changed. Deals had to be made. Sacrifices had to be made. It was the only way change could truly happen.

The man stopped, feeling the rain hitting and falling on his shoulders. Its constant pattern neither stopping or changing.

This was now the only way. This is what it would have to take to change history. Change the world.

He would be a hero. A patriot. Remembered in history as a legend for what he did. He would be revered as a man who saved everyone, when the time called for it.

The man closed his eyes, feeling the constant pattern of rain fall on him.

_"History is written by the victors..." _The man recited in his mind. _"History is always written by the victors..."_

Lieutenant General David Shepherd opened his pale blue eyes, starring down the dark alley towards his destination.

"Time to get to work."


	3. Track 2: Sauveur Shepherd

**The Ballad of General Shepherd: Disc One**

Act 1, Scene 2

Overture: _"Mystline"_ By Jun Seba AKA: Nujables

* * *

_"in a far off land, shores far from home."_

_"The patriot continued, silent and alone."_

_"His mind set on his mission. His soul running its course."_

_"His honesty and integrity tested, from an unlikely source."

* * *

_General Shepherd vigorously rubbed his hands together as he walked down the dark alley, trying to find the smallest warmth even if was only for a moment. The icy rain continued to fall without pause as he pasted dumpster after dumpster, slum after slum.

Moscow was a city with two faces. One with the political elite, the others, poor lower class citizens. Over the past years, such sights of black and white had become just normal in the patterns of life.

But he wasn't here as a tourist. There was no time for it. He was here on other matters.

His thoughts were on who he would be talking to, what he's reaction would be, and what his final verdict was. If he said yes, which he knew he would, then things would be finally set.

As Shepherd slid around a dumpster, he listened to the rain hitting the metal trash cans and lids, sending a percussion of metal tings all around him. The rain was illuminated by blue neon signs scattered throughout the alley. It was actually a beautiful and peaceful sight, and no one probably knew about it at all...

Shepherd just smiled to himself and continued down the alley, passing more slums and apartment doors. As he pasted one, he noticed a person lying against the side of the brick building, huddled in a small sack blanket.

The person was shivering, no doubt from the continuous downpour of rain. He looked around, trying to see if there was anyone who knew who this unknown individual person was.

The only people he could see were three young men, huddled out of the ran in a near by doorway and in conversation. Shepherd briefly caught eye with the trio, and they gave him a suspicious look. Shepherd turned away and the men went back to their conversation, now taking glancing behind his back.

He ignored them and gingerly pulled the sack blanket away only to reveal the face of the person.

It was a woman, her face sprinkled in mud, and her brown hair covered in dirt. She opened her eyes and looked up at Shepherd weakly, her body still shivering.

"What do you want..." The woman asked, staring up at him.

"Are you okay?" Shepherd asked, knelling down beside her. "You hurt or sick?"

"I'm homeless." The woman said, turning her head away from him. "There. Now go away."

"I saw a shelter a few blocks down." Shepherd started, looking back down the alley. "If you want, I can-

"They're full." She replied, cutting him off. "They're always full. Why do you even care anyway."

"Well it's cold." Shepherd started, glancing up at the sky. "And this isn't the neighbor hood to be alone in."

He glanced over his shoulder back at the three men. They were now all staring at him, now watching him carefully.

Shepherd turned his attention back to the young woman. "Look, I can take you there, your going to catch a cold out here."

"no thanks." She replied, pulling the sack cover over her head. "Just leave me alone."

Shepherd sighed and stood up. _"No point in pushing it...She doesn't want to talk to anyone..."_

"Well, take care of yourself." Shepherd said before placing some change in the woman's cup. He grabbed his suitcase and continued down the alley_, _now heading towards gang of three men.

Shepherd glanced up at the three, catching there eye once again. As he pasted them, one of the men got up from the step.

"Da fuck you looking at, 'old man?'" The kid asked, glaring at him.

Shepherd stopped and turned to face him. He didn't say anything. He knew theses types of people. Amateurs, not even young enough to drink. They didn't even deserve his time.

"You need something, 'senior'?" Another kid asked, now beginning to approach him. The other were now beginning to near him, trying to intimidate him. Unnerve him.

If that's the way they wanted to play, then he might as well join in their game. He felt the grip of his .44, but he wouldn't have to use it. He knew more then enough tactics without the help of a firearm.

"You better back up and get out of my face." The leader said, glaring at him. "I don't know where your from 'gramps', but I guarantee you its along way from home.

Shepherd continued to remain silent, not saying a word, not giving any type of reaction. He just let the rain fall on him, and continued to stare down the three kids.

After a brief silence, the leader of the trio turned to his friends and laughed.

"Are you deaf or something bitch?" He asked in a sneer, now only inches away from him.

Shepherd pulled out his hand, forming it into a gun. The kid was taken back by his sudden action, but slightly relaxed when he realized his hand was empty.

"The hell?" The kid asked, staring at his 'gun' in confusion. Shepherd casually pointed his finger as if he were aiming his gun, pointing at the trio.

"Bang." Shepherd said, pretending to shoot. The kids looked at him in complete confusion, now beginning to sneer and take shots at him.

"Your fucking crazy man." One said, looking at Shepherd as if he was a joke.

"Alright, get the hell out of here before you end up in a body bag old man!" The leader asked, pointing down the alley. Shepherd ignored him and pointed his finger at him instead.

"Bang." Shepherd said again, now causing the kid to become frustrated and angry.

"I'm going to fuck you up if you don't leave." The kid spat, pulling out a small knife. Shepherd eyed the small weapon and nearly laughed at the sight. These kids were out of their league.

He pointed his pistol at the final person and pulled his imaginary trigger.

"Bang." Shepherd said, again pretending to fire. "Your all dead."

"No, your going to be dead bitch!" The leader said, pointing his knife at him.

"Now go back inside." Shepherd instructed, his finger gun pointed at him. "And stay away from me."

The trio didn't move an inch back. Instead, they inched towards him, confident in themselves that they had him outnumber.

"Last chance before you really regret this." The leader said, smirking. "Get back to your nursing home or bingo hall or whatever you do for fun."

Shepherd sighed. "You don't learn, do you? Okay..."

He put his hand back into his pocket. He quickly pulled out his silver .44, now pointing it at the trio. The three kids instantly back off, now staring in fear at the gun.

"Lets try this again." Shepherd said, putting his finger on the trigger. "Which one did I shoot first again?"

"Get the hell away old man..." The leader said, slowly backing up. "Listen, we don't want any trouble."

"Then I suggest you get back inside." Shepherd instructed coolly, not taking his eyes off them. "Go back inside, and never come out for the rest of the night."

The kid nodded, and slowly went towards the door. He quickly opened it and vanished out of sight, locking the door behind him. Shepherd put the pistol back in his pocket and sighed. Amateurs...

He turned back down the alley and continued towards his destination, the black metal door that held the key to everything. The sooner he got this over, the better.

As he neared his door, his hands began to shake. Not from nervousness, but rather a completely different and unrelated source.

He reached into this pocket and pulled out a small orange container for medication. He quickly opened it with his shaking hands and popped a pill into his mouth.

His hands slowly began to steady and his heart beat and breathing returned to its normal patterns. He took a breath a sighed, putting the small orange vial back into his pocket.

_"Goddamn heart medication...Can't do anything without it causing problems..."_

He shook it off and continued back down the alley towards the door. He was already slowly getting tired. The sooner this was over, the better it was for his health.

Shepherd finally reached the door and knocked against the medal siding. As he finished knocking, the small slit in the door slid open, and a pair of eyes stared at him from inside.

"Yes?" A man asked in a heavy Russian accent. "What do you want?"

"I have an appointment." Shepherd explained, holding up the suitcase. "I'm here to see the shadow of Zakhaev."

Shepherd listened as he heard numerous locks being undone. When the fifth and final lock was turned, the door opened and Shepherd was greeted by a large man, staring down at him.

"Your late." The man said. "Get in here."

Shepherd calmly walked pasted him and into the building. Into the lair of one of the most violent and ruthless killers on the planet. And he was about to have a meeting with him.

As he walked in, he was stopped by the large man.

"I check you for weapons." The man stated, holding out his hand.

Shepherd reached into his pocket and pulled out his .44, handing it to the man.

"That's not a toy." Shepherd said, handing him the weapon. "Try not to shoot your eye out with that."

The man grunted and set the gun on the table. "Last room down, far end of the hallway."

Shepherd nodded and proceeded down the hallway, towards the final door. The entire place was bare. The walls were cracked and rotting, with paint peeling and the floor littered with dirt and grime. Whoever the previous owner was, definitely did not have good upkeep goals.

As he neared the far door, a man stood guard outside. Shepherd approached him, holding up the suitcase in his hand.

"I have an appointment." Shepherd explained. "He should be aware."

The man briefly studied him before putting his hand on the knob. "One moment."

The guard disappeared behind the door, leaving it slightly opened to hear what was going on inside.

"Makarov sir, he's here." The guard said.

"Send him in." A voice answered.

"Yes sir."

The guard returned and motioned Shepherd in, holding the door open. Shepherd walked into a dimly lit office, books and papers littered on shelves. Compared to the rest of the building he saw, this room seemed to be the only well kept one, as well as the only functioning one.

The room was empty, except for one man sitting at an oak desk, staring at a stack of papers. He had dark black hair and a narrow complexion, with eyes of two different colors. One blue, the other green.

As he walked in, the man looked up at him, a look of disgust on his face. Shepherd wasn't surprised by his reaction. In fact, he had been anticipating it, considering who he was meeting with. It was just another predictable pattern. Just elementary.

The man broke the silence as Shepherd approached him. "I'm surprised to see you, considering who you are..."

Shepherd pulled out his lighter and cigar, lighting it and taking a smoke. As he exhaled, he looked down at the man.

"And who am I?" Shepherd asked. "In your eyes?"

"A killer, a fiend, and a public enemy." The man replied sharply.

Shepherd couldn't help but laugh slightly at the irony of his answer.

"Funny..." Shepherd started, taking another smoke from his cigar. "I have the same thoughts about you..."

_"Vladimir Makarov..."

* * *

_Rate/Review/Favorite


	4. Track 3: Modetta Makarov

**The Ballad of General Shepherd: Disc One**

Act I, Scene III**  
**

Overture: _"Violet Hill"_ By Coldplay

* * *

_"With his options limited, and running out of time."_

_"The patriot paid a visit, to a man invested in crime."_

_"His plan was dark, it's motive a filler."_

_"All presented, to a mad dog killer."_

* * *

Shepherd looked down at the narrow figure that was Vladimir Makarov, sitting at his desk, now glaring at him. This man was responsible for more attacks and violence against the world then anyone before them. And he was sitting just in front of him.

"Then why are you here?" Makarov demanded, still not knowing why Shepherd wanted.

"Because I'm a client, in need of a certain service." Shepherd answered.

The man narrowed his eyes. "And what makes think I'll help you?"

"Because I can give you something your other clients can't, something worth more then money."

Makarov paused, still skeptical. "And that would be?"

Shepherd paused before answering, already knowing one word would be enough to get Makarov to agree to his plan.

"Revenge."

The word seemed to change Makarov. He paused, absorbing what Shepherd had just said. He knew what he could do in his position. He was an American general after all, and he could acquire things not even Makarov couldn't. And he knew he had something Makarov wanted, and he would do anything to have it.

Simple revenge it seems, never failed to make men take action.

Makarov finally broke the pause between them. "And what makes you think you can help me, of all people?" He asked, still skeptical.

Shepherd already knew the answer that would convince him. "Because I'm in a position you will never get to, no matter what you do." He answered. "I can bring something to the table others can't."

Makarov crossed his arms. "Please, enlighten me."

Shepherd reached into his pocket and pulled out a black and white picture of four men. He knew exactly who they where and so did Makarov. That was why he had brought it. Shepherd knew he wouldn't be able to resist this opportunity. This would convince him that he could give Makarov anything. Including revenge.

"You recognize anyone in this photo?" Shepherd asked, already knowing the answer.

For one, Makarov was quiet. He continued to stare at the photo as he replied.

"Yes." He said quietly, continued to study the photo.

"Then I think you know why I'm here." Shepherd said.

Makarov nodded, telling Shepherd that he had finally convinced him. The hard part was over, now it was time for the real work to begin.

"What do you need from me?" Makarov asked. Shepherd answered him by opening his briefcase and setting a set of photos on his desk.

They all where taken at a major airport, one of the biggest in Europe. Shepherd had spent countless hours researching and finding the best target, and he had finally come up with this.

"Zakhaev International Airport." Shepherd explain, handing Makarov the photos. "The largest airport in Moscow and your next target."

Makarov only studied the photos for only a moment before giving his answer.

"What do you want to happen?" He asked, no remorse in his voice. Just cold determination.

Shepherd smiled slightly. "Only a massacre of innocent men and women at an airport from a well known terrorist."

Makarov raised an eyebrow in question. "That's it?"

"Well, there's more."

Makarov's eyes narrowed. "Out with it then." He spat.

Shepherd's eyes darken and he lowered his voice. "The key to this is that it has to look like something else, something not caused by a psychopath, but rather an organized attack."

Makarov still looked skeptical. "An attack from who?"

Shepherd closed his eyes. "The American government."

Those words now stunned Makarov, just as Shepherd had expected. The man wouldn't have any idea why he would ask for such a request. It didn't make since for an American general to frame his own country. But there was a reason behind everything, and like every plan, each had their own steps. And this was just the first of many.

"Why would you want a war against your own country, what would you gain, if anything?" Makarov asked, his suspicion rising once again.

Shepherd decided the only way to truly convince him and set his mind at ease was to tell him the truth. It didn't matter anyway. Makarov didn't care about his goals. He only cared about his own interests, and would only need an explination to why he had requested such a thing. So long as his mind was at ease, and didn't feel threatened, he would comply to his request.

"It is an unusual request, but it works to my liking. You see, you're not the only one who wants their country changed. The United States is the most powerful military force on the planet, no matter what you think. That is what made us who we are, and I want to make sure it stays that way."

Makarov smirked. "So you want fame and notoriety?"

Shepherd smiled slightly. "I wouldn't call it something as trivial as that."

"So what are your goals then?"

"Same as yours." Shepherd replied simply. "Power, Revenge, and a country that the world recognizes for what it truly is."

Makarov crossed his arms, still somewhat unconvinced. "I still don't like helping you..."

Shepherd was expecting such a reply as well, and already knew the answer to it.

"Are you familiar with the old saying: the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Shepherd asked.

"Yes I am." Makarov replied quickly. "It describes two enemies united together against a common foe that threatens both of them. I'm assuming you're using it as an analogy to us?"

"Correct." Shepherd replied. "We both have a goal. We both have the same enemy. You know there isn't another option. If you ever want to achieve your goals, you need my help, as much as you hate to admit it. So what do you say, can we talk business, friend?"

There was pause, stillness in the dimly lit office. Shepherd knew he had him now. This was just an offer he couldn't refuse. It was an offer he would never refuse. He was as good as sold.

Shepherd received his answer when a small smirk appeared across Makarov's face, telling him all he needed to know."

"I believe we can."

* * *

Rate/Review/Favorite


	5. Track 4: Sauveur Shepherd Remix

**The Ballad of General Shepherd: Disc I**

Act: I Scene III**  
**

Overture: High 2 Lows By Nujabes

* * *

"With his plan layed out, in perfect timing."

"The patriot departed, his confidence climbing."

"His goal in sight, his obstacles in view."

"It was then he knew, his dream was about to come true."

* * *

The meeting concluded with minimal interruptions as Shepherd outlined his request to the dark haired Ultranationalist. Makarov only listened as Shepherd continued to layout every detail, giving plans as well as documents. Documents that only the highest level of authority had access to.

Makarov only asked the occasional question, closely studying everything that was presented to him. After nearly only thirty minutes, everything was made in order and the meeting was done.

Shepherd took his suitcase and stood from his chair, heading towards the exit. As he walked, he turned back to Makarov one last time.

"I'll leave the rest to you. Here's the copy of the operation, as well as Allen's record." Shepherd said. "I'll contact you after you complete you side of the bargain."

"My payment I assume?" Makarov asked, watching him closely.

"Every cent will be promised. Just do your job, and you'll get what you want." Shepherd promised.

He gave a final courteous nod before heading to the door. "Good luck Mr. Makarov."

Makarov's eyes narrowed at the gesture. "You can get out of my office now."

Shepherd gave a calm smile. _"More the happy to..."_

He began to head for the exit, placing his hand on the knob. But as he did, he remembered one crucial piece of information he forgot to give.

"One last thing." Shepherd added, glancing over his shoulder. "Make sure you only speak English."

Makarov raised an eyebrow. "No Russian?"

Shepherd gave a small nod. "No Russian." He replied, his final words before he left the dim office.

He turned the knob on the door, opening it and exiting the room, walking past the guard and down the hallway to the exit. Everything was going perfect, exactly on schedule. He had set up the time frame and had plenty of time to prepare. There was still much work to be done, but for now, he could rest and prepare for the future.

Shepherd smiled to himself, a dark smile. Things were going well, how could he not be happy?

He arrived back at the entrance to find the familiar thug like guard leaning against the door, playing with his .44, flipping the hammer and trying to twirl it like some sort of cowboy. Trying to, but looking more like a small child then anything.

Shepherd snatched the magnum out of the guards hand, giving the man a cold silent stare.

"You are going to shoot your eye out." Shepherd warned, placing his hand on the door handle. "This isn't a toy, remember?"

The Russian muttered underneath his breath and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, motioning Shepherd to go away. He began to light up as Shepherd walked out of the building and back to the rainy alley.

He rather be stuck out in the rain then in that den. He wanted to burn it to the ground. He wanted to burn this whole town to the ground. He wanted to do it, right here, right now. But that would have to wait. The time would come when it was right. When the time was right...

Shepherd pulled his coat close to his body and his free hand tucked under his arm, trying to keep his body warm as he walked back down the alley. He wanted to get out of this town, back into his own element. Back to a place he felt more comfortable. A place where he could concentrate better.

_"It will be two weeks now..." _Shepherd thought as he walked. _"More then enough time to get things in order..."_

Everything was going exactly as planned. Makarov would no doubt fulfill his end of the deal with his professional touch, and once his use had run out, he would be deposed off and erased, As well as any evidence of his dealing with him. It would all go to plan.

As Shepherd walked around another rotting dumpster, his pace began to slow as a sharp pain in his head slowly began to form.

He grabbed his forehead and winced at the pain, clenching his fist around the handle of his suitcase.

_"I need to get out of here...Just find a place to rest just a while..."_

He tried to walk forward, but as he took once step, he lost his breath and collapsed to the ground. He fell in a rain soaked puddle, the water hitting him in the face and soaking his body in cold icy water.

Shepherd winced in pain, clutching his chest and beginning to breakout in a cold sweat.

_"Where is it..."_ Shepherd thought, his panic rising. "_This is the worst its been..."_

He pushed with all his might and rolled from his stomach to his back, now staring up at the night sky, the rain now hitting his face.

The chills were beginning to grow, sending him into a greater danger. Shepherd patted down his coat pockets, trying to find the one thing he was looking for. His hand hit something solid and he quickly retrieved the orange clear vial.

He reached for the top and unscrewed the cover, dumping pills into his hand. He didn't even count how many he had poured on the ground, or how many were in his palm. As soon as he had them in his hand, his popped them into his mouth, swallowing them in an instant.

He continued to breath heavily as he waited. His hands began to stop shaking and he slowly stood himself off, grabbing his suitcase and dusting himself off.

Shepherd limped over to a nearby wall and backed against it, still trying to recover. The attacks had gotten worse ever since that day five years ago, and now they seemed to be getting worse. Anxiety? Depression? Some form of PTSD? He had no idea, but the danger was real, and always shadowing him.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his head resting against the cold, wet concrete.

_"Just a small break...Just a small rest is the only thing I need..."_

"Hey, what are you doing!"

Shepherd glanced over to his right to see the familiar young woman he had talked to earlier, now awake and a look of fear in her dark eyes. Shepherd watched as three more familiar figures approached her. It was the same kids from before...

"I thought I told you to get off our corner." The leader spat, inching towards the woman.

"I-I'm sorry." She apologized, backing against the wall. "I-I have no where else-

"Theres a whole city!" One shouted, cutting her off. "Go hide in someone others trash!"

The woman said nothing, staring at the ground. The leader of the trio raised his fist, about to hit her when he paused, a small smirk on his face.

"On second thought..." He started, smiling at the woman. "Why don't you stay with us? I'm sure we can accommodate..."

He reached to grabbed the woman's arm, causing her to tense up and back away. She pressed herself against the wall, as the trio inched closer to her.

"Come on..." The leader said, reaching towards her again. "We just want to have a little-

He was cut off when the girl caught him across the face, slapping him hard enough to knock him to the ground. He swore and grabbed his face, a red hand print on his hand, his nose now bleeding.

"Bitch!" The kid screamed, backing away. "If that's how you want to play..."

He motioned for his two friends, and they were soon on her before she knew what hit her. She tried to fight them off, but they quickly overpowered her, dragging her by her hair to a nearby door. Shepherd watched as they pushed her inside and they soon were out of sight.

He could hear muffled screams from inside, as well as several hits and yells for help. At one point, the sound of a glass breaking could even be heard.

Shepherd narrowed his eyes, steadying himself and walking over to the door where the trio had disappeared to.

_"These guys may be amateurs, but there also idiots..."_ Shepherd thought, limping over to the door. _"She could end up getting seriously hurt, or worse..."_

He raised his hand and knocked on the door, waiting in silent anger for someone to answer. Shepherd felt the grip of his .44 in his pocket, reminding him that the option was there.

_"Only as a last resort..." _Shepherd told himself. _"I don't need to be drawing attention..._"

The door swung open violently and Shepherd was found staring at the leader of the trio once again.

"The hell do you want again, old man?" He asked, glaring at him.

Shepherd ignored him and looked past the kid, staring at the young woman. Her hair was messed up and her coat and pants hand been ripped off. The other two holding her looked up, wondering who was at the door.

"Are you alright mam?" Shepherd asked, looking over at the young woman.

"Don't worry about her, she just fine." The leader spat. "Now get the fuck out of here!"

The door slammed in Shepherd's face, causing him to clench his fists in rising anger and narrow his eyes.

_"Wannabe tough guys that don't know how to learn_..." Shepherd thought, glaring at the door, hearing the cries behind it. _"Maybe they just need a lesson from the 'school of hard knocks'..."_

Shepherd dropped his suitcase and slammed his fist at the door, knocking three times harder then he had the first time. He waited. No answer.

"That does it." Shepherd said, clenching his fists. He brought his foot up and kicked the side of the door as hard as he could, shattering the lock and ripping it open.

The three kids were taken off guard by what had just happened, and the leader stood up in anger.

"What did I just fucking tell you!" He shouted, grabbing his knife. "You better get the-

He didn't even finish he sentence. Shepherd swung as hard as he could, delivering a hard blow across his face. Blood flew and he spun into a nearby table, taking down glass plates and cups before falling to the ground, knock out cold.

The other two quickly rose to action and dove at Shepherd. Shepherd dodged the first one but was tackled to the ground by the other, knocking the wind out of him.

The kid rose his fist to swing, but Shepherd delivered a blow to his chest, knocking him off guard just long enough to kick him off.

Shepherd quickly got to his feet just as the second attacker made another attack at him, his fist raised in attack. Shepherd raised his own, preparing to defend himself.

The kid threw a punch, causing Shepherd to dodge and avoid the blow. The kid quickly threw more punches in quick succession, causing Shepherd to duck and swiftly move out of the way with ease. His attacks were too blunt, too blind. He was wasting energy throwing uncontrollable punches, and was tiring himself.

Shepherd dodged one final punch before he finally saw his opening. He quickly swung his arm and delivered a swift uppercut to the kid, knocking him back and off his feet.

The sound of breaking glass cause Shepherd to wheel around in defense. The other kid had grabbed a nearby glass bottle and had broken it, turning it into a deadly weapon.

The kid swung quickly, causing Shepherd to jump back in defense. He couldn't afford to get hit by that, but everything could be countered so long as you knew what you were doing.

He swung the bottle upward, missing Shepherd's face by only inches. He quickly brought the weapon down to catch him off guard but Shepherd grabbed the kid's arm before he could reach it's target. He used his free hand to deliver three punches to the kid's chest, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to drop the bottle. The weapon shattered to the floor, glass flying everywhere.

As soon as the bottle hit the ground, Shepherd felt a pair of arms grapple him around his neck, dragging him back. He tried to fend of his attacker, but couldn't reach him.

"Got ya now, old man!" The kid said, tightening his grip around his neck. Shepherd tried to get free, but the kid's grip was tight. His breathing was beginning to become shallow.

The other kid had gotten to his feet and now stood before Shepherd. He raised his fist and brought it across Shepherd's face, causing a sharp and burning pain. Shepherd could do nothing as he rose his fist again, delivering another hard blow, causing blood to fly from his mouth.

The kid raised his fist for another punch, but Shepherd was ready this time. As soon as he got in range, Shepherd delivered a strong kick to his ribs, causing him to yell in pain and fall to the ground, clutching his side.

Shepherd got one of his arms free and brought his elbow into the kid behind him, burring it into his face, breaking his nose. The kid released his vise grip and fell to the ground, clutching his face and rolling on the ground in pain.

Shepherd steadied himself and turned to the kid on the ground. "I told you to stay inside."

The click of the gun caused Shepherd to freeze and turn around. The second kid now held a small pistol in his hand, its sights pointed directly at him.

"Now your going to wish you never messed with us, old-

A sound of shattering glass causing him to stop and fall to the ground, knocked out cold. Shepherd looked to see who had delivered the blow, and found the young homeless woman, now clutching a broken bottle.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "God dammit..." She muttered, dropping the bottle.

"Are you alright?" Shepherd asked, walking up to her.

"Fine..." She said quietly, looking away. "You?"

Shepherd managed a weak smile. "Better then them I guess."

The woman couldn't help but reveal a small smile. "Ya, thats for sure..."

"Well in any case, they sure can though a good right hook." Shepherd said, rubbing his face in pain. "Lets get out of here before the wake up."

She was reluctant at first but soon fell in behind Shepherd, following him back outside and into the rain. He grabbed his suitcase and soon began to walk towards his car, his new acquiescence in tow.

"Listen, I can drive you somewhere where they have shelter." Shepherd said, approaching his car. "Its the least I can do."

"Listen, I appreciated this, but I can look after my self." The woman said. "I'll be alright on my own."

Shepherd sighed. "Your a hard woman to talk to..."

She just smiled. "Your just not used to talking to my type."

Silence sat between them as the rain continued to pour, its icy glaze still pouring. Shepherd noticed her shiver and shook his head.

"Take this." Shepherd said, handing her his long coat, taking his wallet, pistol, and pills out before giving it to her. "Your going to catch hypothermia out here."

Her eyes narrowed. "Listen, I already-

"If you don't take it, I'm leaving it on the sidewalk." Shepherd said, not taking no for answer. "Your choice."

She sighed and reluctantly took the large coat and draped it over her body. "Thanks..."

Shepherd waved her off and started to his car. "Don't mention it."

"Hey!"

Shepherd turned to the woman, now standing on the curb.

"I never got your name." She said, clutching the coat around her.

Shepherd smiled. "Its David."

"David." She repeated, running it through her mind. She nodded to herself and smiled softly. "Thanks..."

He nodded. "Take care of yourself."

She nodded in reply.

"You too."

* * *

Rate/Review/Favorite


	6. Track 5: SSDD, 1st Movement

**The Ballad Of General Shepherd: Disc One**

**Act:I Scene:IV**

**Overture: Sonny Rollins-St. Thomas  
**

**

* * *

**"With the seed planted, the Patriot returned to his post, a new mission on his mind."

"In need of a man, he looked for an expendable one with little time."

"His demeanor innocent, his suspicions little to none."

"The perfect fit, in a perfect plan to get the patriot's goal done."

* * *

**_"Two Weeks Later..."_**

**_Fire Base Phoenix, Afghanistan..._**

"All I'm saying is that they're asking for results."

Shepherd smiled up at his young subordinate. "Your getting too worried. Again."

The young Colonel rolled his eyes. "Are you trying to say I'm overreacting?"

Shepherd paused. "Yes. More or less."

The young Colonel shook his head and sighed. "You are a difficult man sometimes 'Shep'..."

"And you are difficult to work with sometimes..." Shepherd countered, rubbing out his cigar. "Jan, just look at it this way. The report is being filed, and-

"The report hasn't been filed, it hasn't even been started!" The colonel exclaimed, slamming his fist on the desk."

"Really?"

"Yes, Really?"

Shepherd reached for a file in his desk and presented it to the Colonel. "So what do you call that Jan?"

The colonel opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped short by the file sitting in front of him. He snatched it up and quickly panned over it in seconds. As he finished examining it, he slowly lowered it, glaring at Shepherd.

"You knew that it had been completed this whole time..."

Shepherd nodded. "Yep."

"And you didn't tell me? Even after all the times I've been hounding on you for getting it done?"

"Yep." Shepherd repeated simply, relaxing back in his chair.

The colonel opened his mouth to speak, but fell short and sighed. "You know, it would have caused me a lot less stress if you had just told me about this..."

Shepherd smiled and straightened himself out of his chair. "You know how I like to keep you on your toes. After all Colonel Marshall, I can't have you slipping up now?"

Marshall sighed. "That's one way of putting it I guess."

Shepherd gave a slight grin, having been expecting just the kind of reaction from the young colonel. Col. Jan Marshall was one of the youngest students at West Point to graduate as high marks as he did. His grades were well above average. A natural leader. A born leader. He knew what it was to lead, and knew how to do it.

What was even more impressive was the fact that he was a colonel at his age. 32, and already well on his way up the ranks. Fellow officers, older ones at least teased him for his age, calling him a kid from time to time. Child prodigy, boy genius, A young Einstein. These were just a few of the many nicknames for young Colonel Jan Marshall.

But Shepherd saw what every great general should see in a subordinate: Potential. Marshall was Shepherd's perfect subordinate, always going above what he asked, and always finding a way to deliver. He was obsessed with his work, and given a few years, he would be at his level. No doubt was in his mind about that.

"So what about the new trainees we have?" Marshall asked, following Shepherd out the door.

"The Afghan militia?" Shepherd asked. "The ones just outside the red zone?"

"Their at the firing range right now." Marshall replied. "They're finally giving those goat farmers rifles."

"Let's hope their aim is good." Shepherd said with a smile on his face. "We don't need to have another accident like with that traveling merchant."

Marshall shook his head, a slight smile on his face. "I never figured a camel could run that fast..."

"Animals do a lot of amazing things. Especially when there's gunfire close by..." Shepherd replied with a slight grin on his face.

"Well, I'm glad you can take a calm attitude to all this..." Marshall replied, his brow farrowed. "I've had enough to deal with today, especially out of D.C."

"And what does Uncle Sam want today?" Shepherd asked in a boring tone.

" Oh, just the usual. Reports." Marshall replied. "Reports on troops. Reports on enemy positions. Reports on the local militia."

"Same shit, different day." Shepherd replied, reaching the office exit.

"Ya, that's all true and all, but that doesn't change our work load." Marshall replied crossly. "I'm all on board and support your stress free take on life, but Washington keeps asking me for these damn 'situation reports' and I'm frankly swamped as it is."

"Well tell them that the situation is, 'stable'." Shepherd said with a slight smile before steeping outside underneath the hot Afghan sun.

Fire base Phoenix. One of the main U.S army bases in Afghanistan, and home of the 75th Ranger Regiment operating in the area. This was his home away from home, and his office. The men, his coworkers. His job, leading them. It was the same shit, just different day.

But today was a special day. Today was his selection day, the day he would choose his key player, a man who would unknowingly change history and place America back in the world's dominant superpower. And Shepherd was the only one who knew he real purpose...

Shepherd walked past the runway and towards a lone African American soldier talking to another Ranger. As he and the Colonel walked up the two, they instantly broke their conversation and turned their attention to Shepherd.

"Sir." The two said in unison, saluting Shepherd.

Shepherd returned the salute and gave a nod. "Sergeant Foley. Corporal Dunn. At ease."

The two rangers nodded and relaxed. Shepherd turned to the African American soldier. "So what is the situation today Sergeant?"

"The same as always sir." Foley replied, looking across the base. Rangers were scattered around, some relaxing in the small patches of shade, other repairing Humvee and supply trucks, and others exercising around the perimeter.

Foley turned to the young Corporal Dunn. "Dunn, go get things set up in the pit. Where going to be running the course today."

Dunn gave a small nod before heading to the obstacle course. "Love to Sarge."

"I'll go help." Marshall offered, following the corporal.

Shepherd turned back to Foley. "Busy Sergent?"

"Not as busy as you or Marshall." Foley replied, watching the colonel walk off. "It seems that things always have a way of staying the same, no matter what."

Shepherd closed his eyes, and closed his eyes. "No..."

"Sir?"

Shepherd opened his eyes. "The more things change, the more they stay the same..."

"Boundaries shift, new players step in, but power always find a place to rest his head." Shepherd continued, thinking about his meeting back in Moscow. "We fought and bleed along side the Russians, we should of known they hate us for it..."

Shepherd chuckled and turned to Foley. "History is written by the victor, and here I am, thinking we won...But you bring one enemy down and you find someone even worse to replace him..."

Shepherd looked around at the Afghan landscape. "Location change, the rationale, the objective..."

He focused on the group of Afghan militia members by the firing range. "Yesterday enemies are today recruits. Train them to fight along side you, and pray that they don't hate you for it too."

Shepherd sighed and turned back to Foley. "Same Shit, Different Day. You know what I'm looking for Sergent Foley. Keep your eyes open."

The Sergent nodded, looking over at the firing range. "Got a new batch hittin' the pit today sir. I'll send you the best I find."

Shepherd nodded, already knowing the man he would select before he even ran the course: Private First Class Joseph Allen, the catalyst that would start it all.

_"Same Shit...Different Day..."_ Shepherd thought to himself, walking towards the observation post._ "All that is going to change before anyone can do anything to stop it__..."__

* * *

_

Rate/Review/Favorite

(AN: Going to write one more track before going back to my other projects. Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far, really appreciate the support.)


	7. Track 6: SSDD, 2nd Movement

**The Ballad of General Shepherd: Disc One**

Act I: Scene: V

Overture: "_How far we've come_" By Matchbox Twenty

* * *

_"Little was known about the patriot's request."_

_"The only thing asked was that he wanted the best."_

_"Someone skilled, Someone deadly as a hawk's talon."_

_"The man for the job, was Private Joseph Allen."

* * *

_Shepherd walked under the hot unforgiving Afghan sun towards the Pit's observation deck, where the best view of the obstacle course could be seen.

The 'Pit' was appropriately named. The large course was a enormous dug out area placed with targets and other challenges designed to test a soldier to his limit and make him demonstrate every skill in his arsenal. From close quarters combat to differentiating between friend and foe. Everything was all on the spot and under the clock.

Each soldier who ran the Pit was expected to run it both swiftly and accurately. The true test wasn't how fast it could be completed, but rather how accurately it could be done.

If you went to fast, you would risk hitting friendly targets. If you went to slow, you wouldn't make the bottom time, and fail the course. A careful tight line held the two together, and each soldier who ran it had to make the right choices at the right times.

Shepherd stepped in observation and looked across the large course. The first section consisted of an open area, little cover and enemy targets. After that, a cinder block building sat at the end of the first stretch, also filled with not only enemy targets, but friendly targets as well. After that, each soldier had to clear the building and then jump out the top floor, entering another stretch, filled with twice as many enemy and friendly targets. After that, it's a short sprint to the end.

A perfect testing ground. A perfect proving ground.

Shepherd had made his request for a man quite a while ago, but it wasn't till today that the man that would be selected would be running the course.

Joseph Allen. Private First Class. This was the man that would be selected, even though he hadn't even run the course yet. Shepherd had already chosen him, and he was perfect for the assignment. He hadn't just picked a random grunt. No, it wouldn't be that easy.

He had considered others other then Allen. When he first needed someone for the undercover op, he naturally considered someone from his Task Force. Every man in the 141 would be perfect for the job, but it would also be a giant waste. 141 operators were highly trained and valuable, but they were also in low supply. The Ranger's were his next answer.

The next hurdle was finding a Ranger that could met the perimeters of the operation. Someone who could go undercover efficiently, and perform the intended job without hesitation.

It took a while to find someone in the 75th Rangers who knew Russian, as well as fit his bill, but after searching, he found his man.

Allen was perfect. Low rank but experience in combat. Loyal and willing to follow any order. Family was scattered, and was young. And finally and most importantly, as a translator, he knew Russian.

That was his key to everything. This one man would change the entire world, he had no idea.

Shepherd's eye caught the movement of Colonel Marshall behind him and he stood beside him in observation.

"Hows the candidates today?" Marshall asked, looking down at the pit.

"All the same." Shepherd replied in a monotone. "Still nothing impressive."

"Why not get someone from Delta?" Marshall suggested. "I'm sure they can spare someone."

"I don't want a D-boy." Shepherd said. "They're needed here. Besides, I have a feeling today will be the day."

Marshall closed his eyes and smiled. "You said that yesterday too sir..."

Shepherd glanced over at the young colonel. "You know Jan, I don't think you've run the Pit in a while. Want to take a shot?"

Marshall sighed and quietly shook his head. "I'll pass."

A young private entered the pit, walking down to the young corporal sitting on one of the gun cases.

"Who's that?" Marshall asked, noticing the man now talking to Corporal Dunn.

"I believe it's Private Allen." Shepherd replied, already knowing well who the man was.

Marshall panned over his clipboard. "Joseph Allen? One of Foley's men?"

Shepherd nodded. "Yes, I believe so..."

Marshall raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said we weren't selecting any men from the hunter victor units. You know, it would of saved me a lot of work if you had told me I could-

"It was last minute." Shepherd replied, watching Allen load his gun and ready himself.

Shepherd glanced over at Marshall, a small smile on his face. "30 seconds max. You want to make this interesting?"

"Five bucks that the good private goes over that and you'll be a poor man sir." Marshall replied crossing his arms, a small smirk on his face.

The bell rang and Allen took off, quickly covering a large amount of distance in a short time. Targets popped up and shots soon followed, putting them back into the ground seconds after coming up.

Allen continued to sprint until he reached the building, where more targets popped up. It took him a moment longer to pick the right targets, but he was soon inside the building, moving up the steps and quickly clearing it.

Shepherd watched as the young private jumped down and began the final stretch. More targets popped up and were quickly hit. Allen move swiftly though the course, firing at any enemy targets. As soon as the final target hit the dirt, he quickly tore off into a sprint and headed to the exit.

Shepherd watched as he sprinted though the exit, and he hit the timer on his stopwatch.

Shepherd calmly smiled. "29.6 seconds. I believe you owe me some money Jan..."

"You forgot, he hit a friendly target." Marshall corrected, marking down his clipboard. "Final time puts him at 30.6 seconds."

Marshall smirked and glanced over at Shepherd. "I'll take that five bucks now."

Shepherd narrowed his eyes. "The agreement was 30 seconds under. He cleared the course in 29."

"He still gets 30.6." Marshall replied, marking down his clipboard. "You and I both know I won. Pay up."

Shepherd sighed, defeated. No point in trying to talk out of it. Once Marshall won a bet, there was no way you could refuse him. He always would fight and claw until he got what he deserved.

Shepherd sighed and began to reach for his wallet. "Well easy come, easy-

Sirens suddenly rang out, causing Shepherd and Marshall to look over in alarm. Humvees quickly drove in to the base, dozens of Rangers pouring out of them. Many were rushing and carrying wounded out, trying to find any nearby medics. Just by a quick glance, the damage looked bad. Shepherd could see blood stained against the glass.

Lots of blood.

"They blew the damn bridge!"

"BCT One is trapped across the river in the red zone! We've lost contact!"

"I need a medic, over here!"

Shepherd rushed over to a nearby Ranger. "What happened soldier?"

"An ambush sir!" The ranger replied. "Inside the Red Zone! They blew the damn bridge when we crossed it!"

"Tend to your wounded." Shepherd ordered. "We'll take it from here."

Shepherd turned back to Marshall. "Colonel, assemble me a squad!"

"Yes sir." Marshall nodded, rushing off. "Second squad, load up, we're moving out!"

"We're moving out!"

"All hunter units, get to your victors! We're moving out!" Sargent Foley ordered, rushing to a nearby humvee. Corporal Dunn quickly fell in behind him, followed closely by Allen.

Shepherd rushed to a humvee and got in the passenger seat. "Looks like that bet will have to wait..."

Marshall got in the driver's seat beside him. "Seems so. We're rolling in with the wolverine bridge layer."

"They'll have to do better if they want to stop us." Shepherd replied, closing the Humvee door. "Lets see how they fair against this."

"Get to your vehicles, we're moving out!" Foley barked, getting to his humvee.

"Same Shit, Different Day Jan." Shepherd said, clutching his .44. "Time to go to work."

* * *

Rate/Review/Favorite

AN: Thats it for the updates for now. Going to work on other projects. Leave a review and tell me what you think so far. Thanks.


End file.
